He's a She?
by excelsis
Summary: Just an idea I had while bantering with a friend about how girly Sesshomaru looks. Thought I'd try it as a short story, but it soon became a 30 and counting chapter story. This is the original short.


**Title:** you FUCKEN BICHES!!!!!!!HOW DARE YOU  
**Reviewed By:** ladyfluffy of the western lands **On:** August 01, 2007 21:48 CDT  
**Rating(s):**

**Style of Writing:** 1 of 10  
**Spelling & Grammar:** 1 of 10  
**Originality/Creativity:** 1 of 10  
**Enjoyment Factor:** 1 of 10  
**Overall Rating:** 1 of 10

**Comment/Review:**  
you assholes how dare you talke about seehomeru like that you fucken assholes

This is, in fact, a review that I have received. I have decided to retort. If you are of like mind with this narrow-minded simpleton, please read this before you read the story; I have six points I would like to make known to you, as you people obviously do not realize this already.

First off, if you are going to insult me, please insult me properly. Meaning: I am only one person--and I only have one asshole, thank you (quote: "you assholes"). Second, Use proper grammar. Poor grammar only shows your obviously low level of mentality, or not knowing how to use spell check—which was created for folks like you. (Yes, I do make grammatical errors, but I make an effort not to, and never such bad ones as in this flame.) Third, spell the characters names correctly. It's Sesshoumaru. You're trying to defend his masculinity, so try to do a better job. Fourth, speaking of spelling, "talk" does not contain an "e." "Fuckin'" also does not contain an "e." Fifth, you didn't have to read it. I live in America (freedom of speech), and this is the Internet—which is free (so long as you pay the bill for using it—lol) for everyone's personal use so long as it "harms none" (yay for Wicca). If you think that this is harming you, they are nothing more than words typed on to a screen. If you find the order of those words to be harmful to your delicate mind, fuck off. If I decide I want to have Sesshy-chan to be a girl in my own universe, he can damn well be a girl. I've read of worse things happening to him.

Finally, you're the one who clicked on the link to open the page. You're the one that read it. All I did was post it. If you have a problem with it, go away. I don't like you, you're not welcome, and I slam the door in your face, with the hopes of clipping you on the nose with it.

To those of you who like Sesshy-kun being a girl (and there are many of you), I like you, you're totally welcome, and I invite you inside and give you a cup of tea… with some lemons. Enjoy, my internet friends, for your reviews are welcome.

**Chapter One**

_Secret_

"Wind Scar!"

I dodged easily. As easily as you can dodge something with such a wide range of attack anyway. It didn't even touch me. The hanyou brat was getting better, I suppose. He had to, or else he would most certainly have died a long time ago. But I was better still. I always would be. (Just a bit of my narcissism shining through.) I was glad he had not yet died though. I had the right to kill this blemish in the family. No one else. End of story. I had the one and only right to his worthless life.

Victory was at hand. I just had to wait for him to get cocky. And he would. He always did. Then, when he had just pumped up his ego… Everyone got careless when that ego was distracting them… Precisely why I always focused on the battle at hand; note the ease with which I gracefully countered everything he did. He was such a barbarian, albeit an egotistical barbarian. But when his ego took hold of him, I would… _ What are you?_

Damn! Why wouldn't it just go away? For some reason, it had been harassing me a lot lately. Something I couldn't shake off, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried very, _very_ hard. Nothing seemed to work though. No matter how many yaouki I slaughtered or places I have wandered… It just never seemed to take my mind off of that memory. I wanted to drown out that memory. I wished I could just forget the whole thing ever happened. But I couldn't. And I knew I probably never would. It was wishful thinking to even dare to hope that I could simply forget. Over all, it was a waste of time to trust in something as unpredictable as a memory to go away for good.

_What are you? Who are you?_

_I'm me… Who else could I be?_

_No, you're not the child your mother gave birth to._

What was causing this onslaught of memories? Why the hell was it plaguing me _now_? I had not thought about this for years. Why now? Why in just the past month? I didn't have time to contemplate that though. Apparently, my body had refused to react any more; my brain was occupied on other things and my body was barely animated, as it were. Pain engulfed me. The Wind Scar consumed me. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Memories are useless. All they cause is pain, and this was evidence of that. I wished I could abolish any personal memories. Such a weakness. If I had not become lost in thought, I would have been focused on the battle at hand… not lost in my damn memories. The pool of memories tried to drag me into its depths. I was fighting a losing battle with my own mind.

I lay face-up, barely conscious, barely aware of what was going on outside of me. What was going on inside was more important, more urgent. Or so it seemed. The hanyou may very well run up and strike off my head, but my memories kept _insisting_ that they were more important… More important than my own life. Like I wanted to be reminded of what a disappointment I was. But there was that memory. It seemed to have a voice of its own, "_Sesshomaru, don't forget me! You must never forget how much you disappointed your father, my darling!"_

_What are you?_

The question echoed in my mind. I felt myself go under the sea of my memories, washing over me, dragging me in deeper. I was helpless in that current. Still, I struggled, in vain. I knew it was all in vain. Finally, I gave myself over to the onslaught.

_What are you?_

My father looking at me in disapproval, with sadness lurking in his golden eyes. To me, that sadness was like a predator, and I was the unfortunate prey. I wished this weren't so. This just wasn't fair. My body cried out in pain, demanding my attention, but the inner pain was so much worse by far and my mind refused to acknowledge that my body even existed. Wounds that had lain dormant for so long were torn open in that black darkening hole inside my mind, screaming at me to acknowledge them yet again. They would never really heal, would they? I had tried to stitch them together, to conceal them, countless times, but they always managed to surface at the worst possibly moments…

_What are you?_ There was that damned question again. That damned unanswerable question.

_I don't know!_ I screamed inwardly. My eyes closed as the physical pain pulled me down into a dark abyss—an abyss I swore that I would never again revisit. I did not want to remember it…

"Is he dead?" Kagome asked, walking up to Sesshomaru's unconscious form, keeping her distance and an arrow trained on him at all times.

"I dunno… But he's gonna be!" Inuyasha ran up to him, intent on chopping off his head this time. No other attacks would suffice. It had to be a cut. Any other way, and he could never be sure… Until the bastard attacked him again. And he just didn't trust his brother to die like most people should. Leave it to him to find a way to cheat death just to irk him… He stopped dead in his tracks. "Um… Maybe _she_ is gonna be."

"She?" Kagome moved closer. So did the others, their interests piqued.

"Oh, Sesshomaru is… a woman," Sango said quietly. It was true. The kimono had been rent apart in the front, exposing her perfect breasts. Miroku gaped openly at this pale, slender, perfect body. Sango noticed and immediately slapped him, muttering something about him being a lecher, as usual. His eyes just wandered back to the demon though, albeit he was a bit more discreet this time.

"That doesn't make a difference to me," Inuyasha decided and raised his sword. Tokijin countered it.

Instinct drove my body. When I woke, I was looking at Inuyasha. _Up_ at Inuyasha. I was lying on my back. My arm was up, and I had blocked his sword, saving my head and my life. Also my hair. My head could be reattached and I would still live, after all… But there would have been no hope for my beautiful silver hair… The gods damn it. There I was with those damned feminine… I looked down in utter and complete horror. My eyes widened as I realized my kimono had been ripped. Oh, no. _Oh, no._ I wished I had not woken up. I wished that he had just killed me. It would be better than enduring the stares I was getting. Particularly from that perverted monk.

I shot to my feet, my hair falling around me. My eyes leveled at the monk. "Do you like what you see, monk?" I hissed. He averted his eyes immediately. I glared at Inuyasha in contempt. _Never_ had I hated him so much. And that was really saying something. I had hated him plenty of times before (There were times when I had almost forgotten about his existence, so unimportant and inferior did I see him as being), with a righteous sort of hatred—hating him with a passion just for being alive, tainting our family line. But this… this was a direct blow to me personally, in my most emotionally vulnerable area—my _only_ vulnerable area.

"Are you really… the Sesshomaru I've been fighting?" he wondered quizzically, wondering if it could be a trick.

My knuckles went white around Tokijin. "Be quiet, you worthless hanyou."

He sighed. "Yes." Then he smirked. "Well, this explains a lot."

'_Just what the hell does it explain!'_ I wanted to yell. If I did not have so much self-control, I might have, in fact. As it was, I was not prone to violent outbursts. "It changes nothing," I informed him. But I had to leave. I had to leave _now_. Every fiber of my being was screaming to get _away_. To put as much distance between myself and those who knew as possible. I willed myself to the air, flying away. My face heated. This was my biggest secret, and just thinking about it had brought me to ruin. And now _they,_ of all people, knew!

When I showed up at my father's palace, so long ago, dressed as a boy, insisting I was… Because I just didn't really believe that I was born as I was. I wasn't a girl. Didn't anyone understand that? I may have a woman's body… But I wasn't a girl. What the hell was I supposed to do with that body? I couldn't even walk in women's clothing. I just wasn't… Didn't they see? I felt so comfortable and safe when I put on the male persona and clothing. I felt clumsy, awkward, unsure of myself, and downright idiotic when I wore women's clothing.

"What are you?" he had asked. "Who are you?"

I had been angry. I was still young enough at the time to be rash and temperamental. Puberty does that—to ningen and yaouki alike, though yaouki act a bit stranger during that phase of their lives. I 'was proof of that,' my mother had said, with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "I'm me! … Who else could I be?"  
He shook his head sadly. "No. You're not the child your mother gave birth to."

My hands curled up into fists. "I wasn't supposed to be a girl!" I stormed angrily away from him.

Nobody ever understood though. Girls were girls. End of story. But not my story. I was a girl, but I never felt like a girl. I felt like a boy. Why couldn't I have been born a boy? What was I supposed to do…? How could I live the life of a woman when I felt so much more like a man? I realized I didn't know where I was going. I sighed. The Weaver, I supposed. She knew about my problem, so I worried not about her seeing me. She would make new garments, as this one was ruined. Ruined like everything else of mine that Inuyasha touched. Did Father give him that name to make fun of _me_? Even in his dying moments, did he wish to provoke me? Did he hate me so much? Just because I wanted to be male?

I changed course and headed to the Weaver. The necklace that altered my voice thumped against my chest. I clutched it with my hand, swallowing hard. Damn Inuyasha! Just… I would kill him. I may kill all of his friends too. But I would never, ever do something like this to another living being. Physical wounds were one thing; this was an entirely different matter. I would rather die than… I ground my teeth in fury.

I spoke to the spider demon little. She requested the torn shreds of my clothing so that she could match up the colors correctly, took my measure again, and went to her loom. This would not take too long. I wandered outside, completely naked and barefoot, my hair falling around my figure that I hated so much. For all the world, I looked like a perfect elfin maid out of some fairytale. I hated it. I longed for my true form. At least in that form it was not… quite so obvious I was female, aside from, well, the obvious. And people were always much more interested in looking at my fangs and claws than that. After all, they were usually trying to avoid getting killed. Not that it ever helped much.

But that damned hanyou had hacked off my arm. What good would a dog missing a front leg do? If it had been a back leg, I could at least walk. Of course, my humanoid form would be worthless then. I wondered vaguely… Which one did I prefer? They each had their uses, true. I sighed. This form. Animal instincts always pumped into overdrive in that form, sometimes shoving aside more rational thoughts. It was sort of like trading thought and clarity of mind for raw power. Besides, size was usually a disadvantage: you became a larger target. Would I have lost my arm if I had not transformed? I wondered about that almost every day. Keh. Like I needed that arm anyway. I was strong—even without it. Besides, it would grow back eventually. It was impossible to permanently scar a demon… except for maybe mentally or emotionally.

I found myself staring at a quiet river. I sat down on a rock, my long, silver hair falling over my body. I hated my body. I didn't even like looking at my body. Yet here I was, staring at my reflection. Why didn't I even recognize myself? Why did the girl staring back at me look so beautiful, but so alien? Like I had never seen her before? It was like I was staring at someone else. I wished I was. I wanted so badly to be male.

I touched the crescent moon marking on my forehead. It was a red—or blue, if you will—flag to anyone at all that I was really female. The moon is traditionally a feminine symbol in most cultures. While it may be hereditary and not really a dead-giveaway, it was an insult to me. It saluted to the entire world my true gender, proudly betraying me—in my eyes, anyway. _It's just hereditary._ I tried telling myself that. But it never really seemed to work. The moon was a _goddess_ symbol—the _feminine_ symbol. Damn!

"I knew it," a voice said. I raised my head, extending my hand as I prepared to attack anything nearby. Why hadn't I noticed an approach? Absorbed in my emotions again. True, I never expressed them outwardly—and for good reasons too. Truth be told, women have different ways of expressing facial features than men. It was just easier if I made none at all. There was no need to alert people to my "real" self by expressing something as worthless as an emotion. It was fairly easy; dogs don't make facial expressions, and I had spent a good deal of my life in that form. But I knew that voice. I narrowed my eyes at Naraku. How dare he. That bastard. I'd kill him. Dimly, I realized that I didn't have Tokijin. I didn't need it. He chuckled beneath the white baboon pelt. I sniffed the air a little. It was a puppet. But he would get the message anyway. Then, I would go after the real thing. "So, the great _Lord_ Sesshomaru is actually _Lady_ Sesshomaru, _Princess_ of the West." He looked along the length of my body, seeming to enjoy what he saw.

In the back of my mind, I thought, _You masquerade as a monkey. Let me masquerade as a man. At least the connection is closer. _My eyes narrowed further. "My gender is of no importance, Naraku. You should know that a mere body is of no significance." I cracked my fingers in preparation, gathering the poison in my claws. Damn him, he'd die. I rose to my feet, slowly, with grace, always dignified, chin held high.

He smiled. "Yes. The woman who calls herself a man… Sesshomaru." He had to know that my name was a fake. My given name I had discarded long ago. Some part of me was pleased that he would never know my real name—nor would anyone. Everyone who had known was dead… Except a few friends of my late father, and they were too terrified of me to say anything.

My anger rose. "Do not mock me," I hissed, slowly approaching him. Not out of caution, though. I was walking slowly, in a carefully controlled rage. "Look at me, if you will. Kill me, if you can. But _do not_ mock me, Naraku." For me, it was a speech. I didn't like mincing words, but I liked threatening others. Besides, Naraku was afraid of me. That's why he never attacked me; I always had to go hunting for him (he also ran from me like a coward too). So he had to feel some shame in running from a woman, and was trying to hide it by mocking me. _That_ pleased me.

He took a step away from me. "You misunderstand me." I paused. I had time to pause. Time was on my side. "You're quite lovely, Sesshomaru."

"Don't try to sweet talk me. You tried to devour me." I arched an eyebrow. "I haven't forgotten."

"I thought you were a man," he said with a shrug. "Now I know why I've always thought you were beautiful." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Sesshomaru… Are you a--" I wasn't going to let him finish that sentence. I knew what he was going to ask already.

I ground my teeth, a low growl emitting from my throat. I was tired of battling him with words. I hated talking. I charged at him, ripping my claws into his stomach. In my hand was a demon puppet. I crushed it. Damn him. Just… damn him. Next, I was positive—Jaken would find out. Everyone else had. I think I would die if he ever knew. My brain would just collapse. Not because I cared about what he thought… But because I hated being near people who knew. And Jaken was always… there. Rin wouldn't care one way or another. I felt safe with that child. If she knew, I'm sure it would not bother her in the least. But… Would Naraku spread the word about Lord Sesshomaru being female? That could mean trouble. When a woman ruled over lands, men always tried to dominate her. And, whether I wanted to admit it or not, I had no army and I was vulnerable in such ways. Not that I couldn't kill off anyone who tried to make me a beta. I was definitely alpha… male. I didn't care if this body said otherwise.

Still… That hanyou brat had caused me even more pain. If not for him…! I cursed silently. If not for him, my life would be so much better. Nobody alive would know that I'm really female. My father would still be alive. I would have inherited all three swords… I would still have my left arm too. The arm, I could live without. If anything, it only proved that I was stronger than others thought I was. Most yaouki would be at an extreme disadvantage in my position.

But others knowing this secret was just unbearable.

I looked back at the water, depressed at what I saw. Who was this girl? I didn't know. I never would.


End file.
